Little Lion Man
by AudioSafari
Summary: "Four years is a long time to wait- we'd best get stepping." How to survive high school in a closeminded, offset world.
1. English Summer Rain

If I had asked you to look for me in the streets of Riga, you wouldn't have seen me, not even if you wanted to. That was the kind of person I was. Invisible. Non-existent. See-through. Call it what you like. No one found anything remotely appealing about me, so I disappeared from their line of vision. The only thing that seemed to separate me from the other nobodies was my palsy.

I constantly shook. I don't know if I had been injured as an infant, or if it was some kind of abnormal tumor pressing up against my brain. I trembled when I was upset. I trembled when I was bored. I trembled when I walked down the street. It was just a part of my daily life- of who I was. My parents had taken me to see countless doctors, therapists, chiropractors and acupuncturists. But nothing seemed to help me. Half of my childhood was spent in the doctors' office- I remember the smell too well for my own health.

I was the youngest of three children raised in a very religious household. My two older sisters left home before I had finished primary school, so I had no real female contact in my life besides my mother. She was short, loud, had no taste in fashion, and I had been afraid of her from birth. Just a glance could make the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. I often wondered how such a bold woman ended up with a man like my father. He was her complete opposite, timid and tall with little to say for himself- I think it may have been a shotgun wedding.

The first ten years of my life went by in a schedule-like manner. Wake up, eat, shake, go to school, shake, eat, shake, go home, do homework, shake, eat, sleep. Repeat. It got tiring after a while, but there wasn't a lot I could do about it. I needed something more. More than shouting mothers and recess bullies. More than the same boring church pastor and the constant trembling of my hands when I wrote. More than the same view of the sky from my tiny bedroom window. My head was muddled and my heart confused. I needed a revelation.

It came not a year later. On my first day of middle school I began to notice words that I had never heard before. Homo. Fag. Queer. Were these words always there, or had I only been able to hear them now that I was running with middle schoolers? For weeks I had tried to silently pieced together their meanings. Then one day I had to courage to look up 'gay' in the dictionary at the library. There were about six different meanings, but definition number five caught my eye.

_See __homosexual._

Doing what the dictionary told me I hopped forward into the 'H' section and skimmed down the pages. My finger stopped when I finally came across the word and it's definition, and I swore I felt my heart skip a beat.

_ho·mo·sex·u·al (noun) One who has a sexual preference to those of their own gender._

That day I walked home shaking so hard that people actually stopped me to see if I was alright.

I never looked at men the same way ever again. While other kids my age were beginning to show the first signs of actual courtship towards the opposite gender, I had dreams about boys. Tall handsome boys who would coo to me and tell how cute I was despite my palsy. These minor delusions were enough to keep me mildly satisfied for a while. Then one day in the middle of my seventh grade year, our science teacher (who wouldn't know a thing about discretion if it kicked him in the shins) decided to show us a film about the anatomy the male and female bodies, particularly focusing on the functions of the sexual organs.

Quietly so as not to attract unwanted attention, I asked if I could be excused to go to the bathroom, and once I was secure inside one of the graffitied stalls I had my first erection.

I had no doubts about it- I was gay. I was the one that everyone hated. I was the enemy. And I was absolutely terrified. I knew from my Bible-thumping mother that all homosexuals went to Hell. How could I have brought myself to tell her? At first I tried to tell myself that I was just over reacting, that I wasn't really gay, just confused. But I kept having dreams about boys, and they came back more vivid than ever. I knew then that I couldn't deny what I was- I could only conceal it.

My revelation didn't happen as I intended it to, and I was more lonely and miserable than ever. As time passed I felt like something inside of me was being held back. Nothing in my life, not even my writing, could cure me of this anxiety. Once again I found myself needing something more. Something that would peel back the wallpaper of my doubts and let me roll on the plaster of a new, self confident me. A me that I hoped was alive and well.

And it all began when the letter arrived.

**I wrote the idea for this fic down on a scrap of paper while at my PCT classes a while back (I'M SUCH A HORRIBLE STUDENT). I promptly misplaced it, and I only since found it again, lost at the bottom of my messenger bag. School fics are so fun to begin with, and the idea of writing in the POV of an older Latvia was too good to pass up. The title of the fic is the name of a song done by the wonderful English band Mumford & Sons. Go look 'em up, it's good stuff.** **Actually, I'm thinking of naming all of the chapters of this fic after songs from my favorite bands. That would be neat, huh?  
I hope this little bit got you interested, and I hope to see you on the other side.**


	2. The First Incident

That day I had come home from school later than usual due to a fire alarm that went off near the end of 7th period. I took a shortcut through an empty lot and came out onto the street where I lived. We owned one of those thin city houses, where you could squish thirty of them onto one block and no one had their own privacy. Unlike some of our neighbors we had a small patio, and I found myself weaving through my mother's potted plants on the steps to get to the front door.

But as soon as my hand touched the doorknob there came a shriek of delight from inside the house. Immediately I pulled back and felt myself beginning to fall off the steps, only to have the sleeve of my sweater get caught on the screen door. For a while I hung like an idiot off of the porch, listening to the shouting continue from inside. It sounded like my mother- what could have caused her to scream like that? Figuring that I had to go inside sooner or later (it was starting to rain), I pulled myself up and cautiously went inside.

I left my backpack at the door with my shoes, walking carefully through the narrow hall. Silently I moved to the kitchen, looking around the doorframe inside. My father was sitting at the dinner table with a cup of coffee, watching my mother bounce about squealing at the top of her lungs. She had something clutched in her hands- a piece of paper, but I couldn't see what it said from where I stood. "I told you! I told you he was going to get in, didn't I? Wait until he hears the new, just wait!" Who was she talking about? Me?

"Er...Hi?" Both of their heads turned towards me, and sudddenly I found myself being crushed by a pair of amazingly strong arms."_Hrrk! _Mom...Mom!" I futilly tried to struggle free from her grip, but she just wouldn't let go, proceeding to break my ribs while crying in my ear. "Raivis, I'm so proud of you! See? See, I knew you could do it! I always told you he would do amazing things, didn't I?" "Yes dear," my father drawled, taking a sip of his drink. "Mom, could you tell me what's going on?" I pleaded, sensing my arms beginning to fall asleep. She finally backed away, but as she did I could see big fat tears go sliding down her cheek.

"What's happening, Mom?" I was very concerned all of a sudden. She never acted like this, never! "Oh Raivis, _everything's _happening." She then pushed the piece of paper she had been holding towards me, back to her old demanding self. "Read it, read_._" Doing what she said I smoothed it out against my chest, flipping it over to examine the top of the page.

The header was a very elaborate crest of some sort, a mess of elegant filigrie surrounding a large letter _H. _Below it the writing was very formal, the kind of letter you'd see being addressed to a well to do business man. But it wasn't- it was adressed to _me. _

_Dear Mr. Galante, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to the Hetalia International Boy's Academy. There has been-_

Wait, what? My eyes flew back to the previous sentence and read it over and over again in my head. Accepted. International. Academy. Hetalia. Those four words were played and replayed over and over until my brain couldn't wrap around their meanings anymore and they became useless, like a song that you've grown to hate after hearing it for the umpteenth time.

"Hetalya... what's a Hetalya?" I must have said it wrong because my mother bothered to correct me as she explained.

"_Hetalia_, dear. It's an international boarding school for boys, all the way in America. They only allow high school freshmen to enroll, and even then the chance to get in is slim. But _you _made the cut, Raivis!" And then she proceded to squeal in a way I had only heard cheerleaders do. I kept my focus on the letter in my hands, not really reading it but staring at it.

"Er, that's great mom. But I don't remember enrolling for this school..." In fact I didn't rememer enrolling for _any _high schools. That was something you usually did in the summertime, and for me there was still a month of middle school left. "Of course you don't dear. I did." I looked up to stare at her in complete and utter horror. "Y... you enrolled me in school that's halfway around the world without asking me?" My mother gave me a look that made me back down instantly. "Raivis, don't be such a wet blanket." She said it very nonchalantly, but it was enough to get my palsy really going. But I still couldn't help but be angry with her. How could she have not let me know? She was acting like she hadn't done anything wrong.

"Oh my stars, this is incredible! No one in our family has ever had an honor like this before, never!" I wanted to dryly remind her that pride was one of the seven deadly sins, but she would have cuffed me across the head if I did. "Congratulations, son." My father chimed in from his place at the table. Despite the fact that I was still very angry, I had to feel semi-amazed- I had just been accepted to a boarding school on the other side of the world. "Well, this is kind of... a big deal, huh? I guess I still have a few months to decide if I-"

"WHAT?" The word was pushed out of my mother's mouth with such force that I swore I heard her voicebox finally crack after years of yelling. I looked up and in her eyes I could see all the fury and disbelief she had to offer, and I could feel the rage eminating off of her in waves. I quickly tried to think of something to say to appease her. "Er, I-I mean there's s-still a month or so bef-f-f-fore I decide right? So then I coul-"

"Raivis, how could you even _think _of passing up an opportunity like this?" At this point she actually had me backed up against the kitchen counter, and I was shaking so hard that I thought my legs were going to give out. From where I stood I saw my father give me a 'I'm so happy that I'm not in your shoes' kind of look. When I tried to speak all came out was a mess of jumbled sounds, and it took a few tries to even form a few simple words. I attempted to explain to her why it would be stupid of me to leave the country just to attend high school, but every time I came up with a reasonable answer she had to knock me down and have the last word.

_"Ha... Um... I-I mean... everyone's gonna speak E-English there..."_

"You've always been good with language- you'll learn."

_"And the material may be r-r-r-r-really hard..."_

"Not if you study enough."

_"...The weather in America is really unpredictable."_

"Nice try."

It wasn't any use, it was hopeless to pursuade her. Begrudgingly I stared down at my feet and breathed a labored sigh, and obvious signal of my defeat. But my mother didn't lay off just then. "I hope you know, Raivis, that this will look extremely good on your college resume. And it may teach you a little character, too." "If you say so..." I muttered. She soon perked up and went back to being joyful and bouncy. "Oh, this is all so exiting! Now if you don't mind, I need to go and brag to Sonya! She needs to know!"

Bragging was hardly all my mother did that evening. She made sure to call all of her friends, her co-workers, my two sisters and even my fathers drinking buddies. All night she kept gushing over the reciever about how her only son was to be attending a very prestigious school in _the land of the free_. She was so busy doing this that she didn't even notice me exuse myself from the dinner table and go up to my room.

Once my door was locked and my curtains were closed, I stripped down to my boxers and climbed under my comforter, pulling it over my head as I pressed my face into my pillow. I want to say that my thoughts were a varitible mess in my head, going 'round and 'round like clothes in a washing machine. But they weren't. I was soley focused on one thing.

I wasn't worried about the language barrier; I had luckily paid close attention in my foreign language class and I was fluent enough in English. Nor did the prospect of boarding school homework frighten me. No, what I was concerned about was something far more complex.

_Boys._ I was going to be surrounded by them. If there was ever a time for me to just jump off of a bridge, then would have definatley been it. My sexual preferences were confusing enough to me as it was- how was I supposed to function properly if I was let loose into a sea of boys?

_You won't be able to contain yourself, _a tiny voice whispered in the back of my head. Would there be other boys there like me? I hoped so, but at the same time I hoped not. I was so confused that I didn't know what I wanted. As I felt myself drift to sleep I brought my legs closer to my chest, semi-consiously tucking myself into a fetal position and listening to my own rapid heartbeat.

_"...I could always just run away." _

**CHAPTER TWO IS FINISHED. M-MY HANDS REALLY HURT *Soaks them in a bucket of hot water*. I was having a little diffuculty in making Raivis' mom sound like a bitch, it's hard for me to get characters to sound mean. Sorry Raivis, your life is about to get a lot more complicated.  
**_**The First Incident **_**is a short song written by the amazing Scottish band Frightened Rabbit. There are three of these 'incident' songs on their first album, **_**Sing The Greys, **_**and I intend to make them all into chapters for this story. You guys are gonna be hearing a lot more about this band. **_**A lot more. **_


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